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July 29, 2004
A strange path from a rotten fruit to the soil, to growing trees to more love apples. The rotten tomato (or is it tommatoe?) tasted so incredibly horrible that I found myself looking at little pieces of it swirling down the watery path of no return just seconds after it had suicide bombed itself in my mouth. There were more pieces of it, this time much smaller, in the sink, then eventually none, it was just the taste of water mixed with a foul something on my tongue. There were still two little tomatoes in my hand, and I decided that maybe they also had not been created to end up as a part of me, …and so I buried them. I filled up one of my many little green flower pots with some soil, pushed the little red guys next to each other into the soft and fluffy bonsai garden and poured a little bit of water onto them. The plant had managed to make me do all this, by just being tasty most of the time, but in the end very perishable and one time incredibly disgusting. I had been tricked by a tomato plant into helping it propagate. I have been bullied by a nightshade plant… I am a plant doormat. But maybe not. Let’s see what comes out of that tomato experiment. There seem to be many experiments in my silly little garden… The lime tree is doing really well. Or at least I think it is a lime plant. She is too small to bear any kind of fruit or even flowers, but when I rub one of her insanely green leaves, it feels as if I were touching soft skin. Or maybe a hand that just managed to soak in just the right amount of hand cream. I touch the leaves and they make my fingertips smell like limes. This is miracle enough for me. I am thrilled. The plants have been doing really well recently. Even the little zombie of a Christmas tree, the last little guy available at the corner Korean deli on the evening of December 24th of 2003 is still alive. Yes, the core of the little bugger might be brown and look a bit on the dead side, yes, taking off the wet soaked plastic bow from its top removed some vital parts of the upper portions of the tree, but, even after all these months… the little guy has really amazingly bright green little branch tips. The whole plant looks like a slow motion firework. And yes, touching it really hurts. How did we get here? Oh, that rotten tomato… I really wish rotten eggs could be planted in a pot and they would turn into trees from which chickens would fall off, once they were ripe for eating or new egg production. Or imagine a cemetery that would over time turn into a forest packed with people trees, which we would visit from time to time to harvest little kids that would strangely resemble our grandmothers or grandfathers, or that guy that thought he had some unspeakable superpowers… or maybe that’s what that stem cell research is all about?… Though then we should probably not think of a forest or garden, but start with places that feel more like Gramercy Park… Oh boy, I am really bad with staying on track with my little fragments, am I not? Oh yes… rotten tomatoes? Or just love apples?